Robbed
by Flyaway Dove
Summary: “Mom! No, no, MOM!” she screamed, shaking her mother furiously. But it was no use; she was as limp as a rag...Snow finds herself orphaned and at the Malfoy Manor, without any clue of her real past.
1. Confusion

Snow was very confused. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, groaning from sleepiness. Glancing around the room, she found she had no idea where she was. She didn't recognize a thing; not the large bed, which was twice the size of her own, nor the enormous mahogany dresser, and certainly not the fireplace on the opposite wall. She shrank back into the bed. Snow hated strange places.

She studied the room in more detail, trying to see if she recognized where she was. There was fancy furniture everywhere, covered in gold filigree, a mirror covered in the same golden pattern and even a sofa and two armchairs on the other side of the room. There was a roaring fire in the stone fireplace. Everything, even the drapes on the bay window on the adjacent wall, looked like they cost as much as her entire house.

Looking down to make sure she was still herself, she found that she was in a king-sized bed covered in green silk sheets. She was clad in pajamas that matched the sheets. She ran her hand over the smooth covers and found that her pale hand was covered in scratches and bruises.

_What happened to me?_ she thought. _Where am I? And WHY?_

As she touched her hand to her face to see if it was in the same condition as her hand, a memory suddenly hit her like a brick.

"_**Mom! No, no, MOM!" she screamed, shaking her mother furiously. But it was no use; she was as limp as a rag. Blood streamed from her mother's chest and she cradled the woman in her arms. **_

_**Behind her, her father held a plank of wood, trying to beat off the man dressed in black, who was trying to get at her father. But he had no chance against the man. In a flash, accompanied by a deafening bang, her father's body crumpled next to her mother's. She screamed and cried while the man ransacked the house, taking jewelry, money and silverware. He finally set fire to the house before escaping himself. The last thing Snow knew was intense heat and the lurid smell of burning flesh. **_

Gasping, Snow returned from her memory. She clutched the mattress with her fists, which now seemed to burn with the scorching flames that had surrounded her that day. That day…she wondered how long ago that was. And how had she gotten here? Why hadn't she died in the fire? How had she gotten out of the tower of flame that was her house?

These questions were pushed out of her mind as the door to her left creaked open and in walked a tiny creature with large ears and enormous blue eyes. Snow screamed and backed quickly to the other side of the bed.

"Trinky is not here to hurt Miss, Miss. Master is wanting Trinky to see if Miss Snow is being all right," said the odd creature in a high, squeaky voice.

It knew her name. How did it know her name? And what in the hell _was _it? "What are you?" Snow asked hesitantly, wanting some answers to the unasked questions bouncing around in her head. She simply couldn't hold them all in.

"Trinky is a house-elf, Miss."

"House-elf?" Snow asked. She had to be dreaming. She just _had_ to be. Things like elves didn't exist…and house-elves weren't in any fairy tale she'd ever heard. "What exactly is a house-elf?"

"We are slaves to a witch or wizard, destined to serve their family until we die," explained the creature that was named Trinky.

"Witches and wizards…" Snow asked, extremely confused, and growing scared.

"Master is wanting Trinky to bring Miss downstairs to meet him," said the little elf. It stepped closer to Snow, who wasn't afraid of it anymore. "Miss Snow follow Trinky," it said, and turned around to head out the door.

More out of curiosity than anything else, Snow crept out of the gigantic bed and followed the elf. As soon as she stepped off the mattress, she felt a draft and found that her pajamas weren't as thick as she would like them to be. There was a clean, white bathrobe lying across a high-backed chair that sat next to the bed. She picked it up and put it on, welcoming the warmth it brought.

She wrapped the soft robe tightly around her as she followed the elf out the door and into the hallway. Snow was immediately intimidated by the enormity just this single corridor. It was at least eight feet high, rather wide, and richly carpeted. The carpet under her bare feet was very comfortable and she glanced at the portraits on the walls as she walked through the house.

It was absolutely impossible to memorize the twists and turns they took, but Snow didn't have her mind on memorizing her way back to the room she had been in at the moment; her mind was more on sorting out the new things she had learned in the last ten minutes. She still had at least a hundred questions, the first being _who _was_ she meeting?_

Snow recalled that her parents had said things of witches and wizards to her when she had been a young girl, but she didn't remember anything of house-elves. But wizards weren't real, magic wasn't real, none of this was _real_. It couldn't be, because that would mean that her parents were dead.

Dead.

The word loomed in front of her, heavy and overpowering. Dead. Her parents were dead. Anna and Martin Garvin were dead. Killed at the hands of a burglar. But _why_? Why did they die? Why didn't Snow? Why was she here? Was any of this real?

Trying to blink back tears, Snow trailed Trinky until they came to a room with a long wooden table that could easily seat three dozen people. There were two long metal buffet tables on either side of the room and a series of crystal chandeliers hung above her head. She spotted three people sitting at the far end of the table. In awe, she was lead to that side of the table.

All three of the people were blonde. There was a man with long, bleach-blonde hair and cold gray eyes, dressed in all black; next to him sat a young man who looked almost the same as the man, though his eyes were softer and his hair was shorter. On the other side of the man there was a woman. Her hair was a more yellow blonde and she had blue eyes. She was wearing a silver, flowing robe and appeared to be pregnant. She smiled at Snow as the girl sat down.

The blonde man dismissed the elf. Snow looked at the boy out of the corner of her eye and saw that he was staring at her, looking at what he could see of her body. She was too overwhelmed to be embarrassed.

"Snow, I'm Lucius Malfoy," said the man, and Snow noticed that he had a British accent. "This is my son Draco and my wife, Narcissa. You are in the Malfoy Manor and have been for the past two weeks, ever since your house was set on fire, though you've been asleep for those weeks." His voice was soothing, but there was an underlying maliciousness to it, which frightened Snow.

"How did I get here?" Snow asked. She realized she was probably being a little disrespectful. At the moment she didn't care about this; she wanted definite answers to questions that were threatening to spill out of her mouth.

"You saved yourself from the flames long enough for me to come and save you from the fire," answered Lucius.

"I saved myself…?" said Snow. "But I was unconscious."

"Did Martin really keep it from her for nearly seventeen years?" Narcissa asked her husband softly.

"You're a witch, Snow, or were you not aware?" Lucius told her, ignoring Narcissa.

"Pardon?" said Snow, convinced she wasn't hearing correctly.

"You're a witch. You can do magic," Lucius repeated.

"No I can't," Snow said. She wouldn't—she _couldn't_—believe him.

"You are," said Lucius, and Snow could tell he was getting impatient with her. "Your mother was a witch and your father was a wizard. They chose to ignore their calling, however, and betrayed their Lord. That is why they were killed."

"They were killed? By whom?" Snow asked, leaning forward in her high-backed chair so she didn't miss a word. She thought it was just a random burglary.

"The Dark Lord has many followers and he sent one of them to kill the betrayers, who were your parents. I had nothing to do with it, of course; if I had known about it I would have stopped it. Martin and I were good friends in school and I would never want him killed," Lucius explained. Even though Snow had many questions about this, she kept her mouth shut. She got the feeling that Lucius didn't like this. However, she still wanted to know more about being a witch and why she was here.

"Thank you for keeping me for the last two weeks, sir," Snow said. "But, I was just wondering, why exactly I'm _here_."

"In your parents' will, they gave me custody of you," said Lucius plainly.

_But I've never even _met_ you_, Snow wanted to say, but she held her tongue.

"You will be living here with my family and I until you are eighteen and can live on your own," continued Lucius. "Your bedroom will be the room you are have been sleeping in for the past fortnight. You will be going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with Draco come September, where your parents should have been sending you for the past six years. I have gotten books for you so you can study this summer to catch up with your class. You may go in any room in this house you like, except for the library. You will not be around me when I have my colleagues over. Do I make myself understood?"

"Yes," replied Snow. She was somewhat taken aback at his sudden hard voice. She wasn't quite sure that she understood anything he was actually saying. She knew, however, that this was not a good man to cross. She added for good measure, "Thank you so much, Mr. Malfoy, for doing all of this for me. I don't know where I'd be if you didn't have such a kind heart.

Lucius made a disbelieving sound, and Snow wondered if she'd gone too far in her compliment. If he really had a kind heart, he would have explained all of her questions and had time to talk to her.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I've got rather important business to attend to. I hope you enjoy living here," Lucius said, suddenly polite. He pushed back his impressive chair, stood up, and strode swiftly from the dining room, his pitch-black robes billowing dramatically behind him.

Narcissa gave Snow a weak smile. "Yes, welcome to the Malfoy Manor, Snow. I do hope you like it here. Please excuse Lucius; he's been under so much stress lately… he's not usually this rude or overbearing. Excuse me; I need to lie down for a while. Draco, do give her a tour." And with that, Narcissa was gone too, supporting her pregnant stomach with her hands as she tottered away.

Snow was left with Draco, who shook his blonde head and put his feet up on the table unceremoniously. "Don't listen to my mother. Lucius is always rude and overbearing, among other things. My mother just wants to believe that he loves her." There was a silence, and Snow got the feeling that Draco wasn't going to leave like his parents had.

He looked her in the face. Snow noticed that his eyes were more of a liquid-silver than the stony gray that Lucius's were. His skin appeared flawless and his lips were drawn into a smirk. "It's hard to take in, isn't it?" he said.

She had to look away. She hadn't really had much time to think about what had happened to her parents, but now that Draco had asked her about it…Snow felt tears spring to her eyes. She blinked furiously, trying to force them away, but one rolled solidly down her ivory cheek. She bowed her head, letting her curly auburn locks cover her face. She didn't like letting people see her cry. She didn't like people seeing her vulnerability. And now she was more vulnerable than before.

"Don't worry, I'll keep you safe," said Draco, though it sounded more like a threat than a promise.

Vulnerable:

She had no parents. She'd just found out that she was a witch, and she didn't even know what that meant. She was stuck living in a house with people she'd never met before. The man of the house was mean, nasty and evil, the woman was a hopeless optimist and the son was so sure of himself and unafraid.

Her eighteenth birthday never seemed so far away.


	2. Learning

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! I'm probably going to have short chapters in this story, but I don't really know yet. This chappy is short. **

**Sugar and Spice fans, I'm so sorry I haven't updated in a few months, but I've had MAJOR writers block. In the meantime, read my other stuff. :-) REVIEW PEOPLE! It only takes an extra minute!**

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Come on, I'll give you a tour," Draco said. He didn't handle crying girls well and he wanted desperately to change the subject.

Snow wiped he tear from her cheek and lifted her head, breathing in deeply. She told herself not to focus on her parent's deaths, for now she would pay attention to the tour of her new home.

"This is the great hall," Draco said. She got up and followed Draco out of the great hall. "This is the sitting room," he said, taking her into a wondrously furnished room.

They moved on to the ballroom, the breakfast room, the kitchen, the second kitchen, (both were filled with those house-elf creatures), the office, the living room, the dining room, the game room, the hot tub room, the room devoted to magic (which confused Snow to know end), the library that didn't belong to Lucius, the enormous bathroom, smaller bathrooms, multiple bedrooms of various sizes…there were too many rooms for Snow to count. She didn't think she would ever be able to memorize where they all were. He explained everything she needed to know about each room.

Draco ended the tour with Snow's room. "If you ever want a house-elf, you can hit this button," he said, motioning to a red button on the stone wall next to the bed. _Her _bed.

Snow sat down in the chair next to the bed, her head was spinning and she couldn't see anything straight. She clutched her head, which was beginning to throb. This was too much to handle. She was taking in too much information too fast and she couldn't do it. Everything blurred together.

Draco was concerned. "Snow, are you all right?"

"Can I ask you something?" she asked, looking up at him. Her eyes were distorted with unshed tears.

"Yes," he replied.

"Who am I?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, lines of confusion etched into his faultless face. He looked into her celery eyes, and he could practically feel the pain and bewilderment Snow was feeling.

"Who am I?" she repeated, casting her eyes to the floor. "It seems like I don't know anything about me. What did your father mean when he said I'm a…a witch?"

"I can't believe your parents kept it from you all of your life," Draco sighed, running a hand through his bright blonde hair. He sat on the bed. "You're a witch, you can do magic, with the help of a wand of course. You can make potions, say spells, fly on broomsticks, travel through fireplaces…"

"Then you're a witch, too?" Snow asked, looking up at the boy once more.

"A wizard," he corrected. "I've been going to a school—Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—for the past six years. I'll be attending my last year there in the fall. Father will want you to be in seventh year as well, so you'll have a lot of studying to do."

"Oh God in heaven," Snow said unsteadily. "Draco, you've got to listen to me: I'm not a witch, I can't be. I believe in God. I'm not a pagan…"

"Snow, I know it's hard to take in, but you are a witch. You've got to learn to be one, or my father won't be too pleased, and you do not want to see him angry. You were born a witch. You're parents were magical."

"Then how is it that I had no idea I was a witch before?" Snow asked, her voice hardening.

"Your parents betrayed the Dark Lord Voldemort," Draco explained. "They changed their name from Cleavon to Garvin and fled to America. For a while I guess the Dark Lord forgot about the two of them, but then they made some sort of disturbance, I'm not sure what it was, and so they were killed."

"And…and how did I end up here?" Snow asked, trying to keep her voice steady. The word _dead_ kept coming into her head, threatening to block out all other thoughts. She had to speak louder to block out the dreaded word. "I've never even met your father."

"From what I've overheard, our parents made their wills right before they became Death Eaters—followers of Lord Voldemort—and I suppose your parents never got to change it. Apparently, our fathers used to be best friends."

"I'm an orphan, a witch and I'm living with people I've never met for the next year and a half of my life," Snow muttered.

"Look, Snow, I'm really….erm…" Draco ran his hand through his hair again. He wasn't used to showing any compassion, and he had to spit the words out. "I'm really sorry. Er…if you need to talk or anything…I'm here you know. Its best to stay away from my parents; Lucius isn't the friendliest person and Narcissa is, well, a bit unstable. They're bloody insane."

Snow looked him in the eye and smiled sweetly at him. "Thanks, Draco," she whispered. "I know I'll have to take you up on that offer."

Draco returned her smile, something he rarely did to anyone. He liked being depended on.

The two of them looked at each other for a minute or so, sharing an uncomfortable silence, before Draco said, "So…are you hungry or anything?"

"Not really, thanks," said Snow. If anything, she was more nauseous than hungry. "I think I'd rather sleep, actually."

"Alright," Draco said, getting off of her bed so she could get in it. "I'll see you later then. Erm, it was nice to meet you and…I'll see you later."

"Thanks, Draco, I really appreciate this," Snow said softly as he left the room.

Alone again, Snow sighed heavily and shakily. She shed the bathrobe, letting it fall to the floor, and she climbed into the soft bed. She was too exhausted at the moment to do anything else but sleep.


	3. Blaise and Draco

**A/N: Here's another one! Thanks to my reviewers! Keep them reviewers coming!**

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The house-elf, Brandy, brought the tray with tea and scones to her master's son, and placed it on the table in front of him. Draco dismissed the elf with a wave of his hand. Brandy bowed before leaving Draco and his friend in peace.

Blaise took a scone from the silver tray and stretched his feet out under the wooden coffee table. "When did you say she arrived?" he asked.

"A fortnight ago," Draco replied, pouring himself a cup of hot tea.

"And I wasn't informed of this because…?" Blaise waited expectantly for an answer from his best friend.

"Father wanted to keep it a secret," Draco replied simply. "He wasn't sure if she would ever wake up."

"What happened to her?" Blaise asked, taking a large bite out of his scone. He was very interested in girls living in his best friend's house.

"Her parents were killed by the Dark Lord. She has no idea she's a witch and she's never met my family. She's to start Hogwarts in the fall, with no training whatsoever. And, apparently, she believes in _God_," Draco explained.

"Damn, she's going to be a challenge, then, isn't she," Blaise said. He brushed a piece of brown hair from his face.

"Pretty much," Draco shrugged. He tried to look indifferent to the whole situation, but he knew that plan didn't work when Blaise said,

"You like her, don't you? You actually want to help someone…my, my, Malfoy, I'm shocked."

"Shove it," Draco muttered.

"Is she gorgeous?" asked Blaise nonchalantly.

Draco looked at him with a smirk and his blonde eyebrow raised.

"Fine, if you're not going to tell me, then I'll just have to go see for myself," Blaise shrugged. He popped another scone into his mouth and stood. "She's in the fourth guestroom, right?"

Without waiting for confirmation, he strode out of the room, Draco in tow.

Finally finding the bedroom, Blaise cracked the door open, already warned by Draco that Snow was sleeping. She tossed restlessly in her sleep; her face looked very troubled. Blaise crept stealthily over to the bed and looked at her. Her hair was spread wildly over the pillow and the sheets were wrapped around her.

"She's bloody beautiful," he hissed at Draco. Draco gave him a half-smile. "How does good ol' Lucius feel about her taking up residence here?"

"He hasn't told me anything directly, but from the conversations I've eavesdropped on, he seems to think that Snow and I will produce a nice heir for the Dark Lord," Draco replied gravely.

"I wouldn't mind creating an heir with her," Blaise said, looking from Draco back to Snow.

Draco chuckled.

"But doesn't Lord Voldemort want her dead, after what her parents did to betray him?" Blaise wondered.

"Evidently not," said Draco. "He seems to like Father's idea. And, of course, Lucius would love for his grandson to be on the Dark Lord's throne."

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud gasp from Snow, as she was disturbed from her sleep. She sat bolt upright, dripping from a cold sweat that covered her body. She gasped heavily, trying to catch her breath. She blinked her eyes furiously, trying to get nightmarish images to escape from her mind's eye.

Draco and Blaise, who were surprised and caught off guard by Snow's waking up, stood there like two deer in the headlights of an oncoming car.

She blinked at them, still waking from her sleep. Snow was breathing more normally now and she stared. When she finally remembered where she was and said, "What're you two doing in here?"

Her hair was array and her eyes were smudged from sleep, but Blaise was right: she was beautiful in a subtle sort of way.

"S-sorry," Draco stuttered.

"I just wanted to meet you," Blaise said, coming up with a quick, valid excuse. He stuck his hand out across the bed. "Blaise Zabini," he introduced himself.

Snow just blinked her eyelids for a few seconds, ridding herself from the blurry remains of sleep; then she held out her hand and shook Blaise's, slightly confused. "Snow Garvin," she said.

"Were you having a nightmare?" Draco asked. The voice he used with her now was not as soft as the one he had used with her previously, but that was probably due to the fact that his friend was here. He wouldn't, of course, want to look soft in front of Blaise.

"I think so," said Snow, unsure now. As hard as she tried to remember her dream, she couldn't recall anything but a bloodstain. She shivered from the remembered image. "Yes, I had a nightmare," she confirmed.

"D'you want something?" Draco wondered.

"I could get you anything," Blaise added with a slight smirk.

Snow didn't notice Blaise's hormonal sarcasm. "No thanks," she said to Draco. She wiped the back of her burned hand across her eyes, cringing at the pain it provoked.

"Alright, well…we'll be going now," said Draco. With that, he and Blaise left the room.

"That was a little awkward," Draco said once they were corridors away from Snow's bedroom.

Blaise started to laugh. "You're so nervous around her, it's funny," he said. "I've never seen you edgy around anyone!"

Draco's face grew faintly pink. "Well I don't want to intimidate her," he explained. "She's confused enough already."

"Uh-huh," said Blaise, smirking. "I have a feeling this is going to be a very interesting summer, and I'm going to be coming over here to spend most of it with the snowy beauty."

Draco almost rolled his eyes. Sometimes Blaise could be a little overdramatic.

The pair headed back to the sitting room and sat down again. Blaise grabbed another scone. "So has she seen the grand tour of the castle?" he asked.

"Most of it," Draco replied. "The main part, anyway. I didn't show her the cold corridors, the dungeons, or the towers."

"Naturally." There was a pause before Blaise said, "So what would've Lucius done if she'd died?"

Draco shrugged, stretching his black-clad legs out on the coffee table in front of him. "Probably tip off the Dark Lord about the location of a betraying couple again."

"Ah," said Blaise.


	4. Midnight Chats

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Snow wandered the hallways aimlessly, her nose in a book. Since she'd awoken from her sleep to find Draco and his friend standing at the foot of her bed four days ago, she hadn't seen either one of them. The burns distributed over her body had disappeared mysteriously, though.

She spent most of her time in the library a few doors down from her bedroom. The volumes that filled the numerous shelves were not filled with normal novels and textbooks, but instead they were filled with books about magic: witches, wizards, spells, potions, hexes…Snow had never heard of any of this, so she was interested in every book there and read at least five hours a day.

She was enjoying the time to herself, except for the fact that she had ample time to cry. For this reason, she was glad she hadn't run into anyone for the past four days. She wondered when she _would_ run into another person. After all, the Manor was a mansion, and Snow only knew her way around a few of the many hallways.

At the moment, she wasn't paying much attention to where she was going. Suddenly, she found herself stumbling to catch her balance; her book was flying through the air. She landed on her butt with an "Oomph."

"Oh, sorry…er…" Draco extended his hand to help Snow up. She took his hand, noticing that it was almost twice the size of her own, and he pulled her to her feet.

"Sorry," she apologized, bending her head and trying to wipe the tear streaks from her face before he could notice them. "I wasn't watching where I was going." She lifted her head to look at him.

He was looking at her quizzically, his brow furrowed. "Are you alright?" he asked. She could tell he wasn't asking about her physical state, but her emotional one instead. She pretended that she couldn't tell that difference.

"Yes, I'm fine," she replied hurriedly. "We didn't collide that hard."

"No, no, I mean…" he looked uncomfortable confronting her about this, but continued anyway, "Snow, what I said a few days ago still holds true, you know. And…my room's only downstairs. Come down anytime you want."

Not giving her a chance to respond, he turned and walked briskly down the corridor and disappeared from Snow's sight.

She sighed and slid down the wall into a sitting position. Burying her face in her knees, she decided that she had been too lonely these past few days and she would take him up on his offer.

A few days later, Snow awoke in the middle of the night from a horrible nightmare. She was gasping and sweating and on the floor, still wrapped in her blankets. She had fallen from her bed in her restlessness. She lay back down on the hard floor for a few minutes, trying to gather her wits and remember the dream. She pushed a piece of dark, sweaty hair from her sticky forehead. Now that she thought about it, she couldn't even recall what her nightmare was about, though she figured it had been about the fire.

She got out of the giant bed and wrapped her bathrobe around herself. Normally when she awoke in the middle of the night she prayed, but her she'd lost most of her faith in God since she'd ended up in the Malfoy Manor.

Stumbling through the dark hallways, she managed to find her way to the stairs and down to the floor Draco's bedroom was on. The only problem was she didn't know what room was his.

She didn't want to start testing doors in case Lucius and Narcissa slept on this floor as well. She was debating what to do when she heard a laugh that sounded like it belonged to a teenage voice. She followed it to the end of the hallway and a mahogany door. She knocked and the voice inside went silent.

"Who is it?" the voice Snow knew to be Draco's called.

"Snow," she replied softly. "I wanted to talk." She wrapped the robe more tightly around herself.

"Come in," Draco said.

She opened the door slowly and entered the room. She saw Draco and his friend Blaise sitting in long black couches by an enormous fireplace. "Sorry, if you're busy I'll come back later…" she apologized, and started backing out the door.

"No, come in," Draco repeated. Snow paused for a moment before entering the room again. Draco's room was even bigger than hers was, and fancier as well. Most of the décor was black, though there was some red as well. There was a roaring fire in his marble fireplace, as there usually was with Snow's own fireplace, and he and Blaise looked very relaxed. She took a few more steps into the room.

"What's up, Snow?" Blaise asked. "It's the middle of the night. Not that I mind you being here or anything…"

Snow ignored his smirk and said, embarrassed, "I had a nightmare. I-I was just, lonely I guess. I wanted to talk to someone."

"Have a seat, then," Draco said. Blaise offered her the seat next to him with a wave of his hand, and she accepted, sinking into the black leather.

"What was your nightmare about?" Draco wondered.

Snow crossed her ankles. "I don't really remember," she said.

"Well what did you want to talk about?" Blaise asked. Subtly, he laid his arm across the back of the couch, so part of it was behind Snow's back. She didn't seem to notice but Draco shot him a warning look. Blaise smirked back at him.

"I've just been lonely, I guess," Snow admitted softly, looking down at her bare feet. "I haven't seen anyone in a few days and I'm—"

"Missing your parents?" Blaise asked.

Snow raised her head and looked at him. She nodded her head sadly. "So tell me something about your school," she said, changing the subject. She tried to sound cheerful, but it didn't work very well. She wanted to forget about her parents for now.

"Have you read anything about the magical world yet?" Draco asked.

"Yes," said Snow. She was slightly puzzled: how had Draco know she'd been reading books on magic for the past week?

Answering her unasked question, he said, "I saw you in the library one day. But the things you really need to read are your schoolbooks."

"I've started on those as well," said Snow, leaning back into the sofa. Back running into Blaise's arm, she looked at him quizzically and he moved it backwards a little bit. "But I want to know about Hogwarts."

"Well, there are four houses, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor," Blaise explained. "The houses are sort of like your families for the year. You want to be in Slytherin. That's where all the cool people are."

"I've come across stuff about Harry Potter…does he go to Hogwarts?" Snow asked. "I think I'd like to meet him."

A sneer crept onto Draco's face and he curled his lip in distaste. "Yes, Saint Potter goes to Hogwarts," he said. "Believe me, you do not want to meet the Boy-Who-Lived, nor any part of the Golden Trio."

"But Harry Potter sounds like a really great person to meet," Snow said, slightly confused. She bit the inside of her cheek.

"Believe us, Snow, you don't want to meet Potter. He mixes with the wrong people," Blaise assured her.

Snow's forehead creased as she looked at Blaise questioningly. "What kind of people does he mix with?" she wondered.

"Mudbloods," said Blaise with an air of disgust.

Before Snow could ask what he was talking about, Draco said, "You're a pureblood, Snow, and you should stick with purebloods. You're a full witch. You're more talented and powerful than half bloods and Mudbloods. If you mix with half bloods like Potter, Muggleborns like his friend Granger, and blood traitors like his mate Weasley, then you're asking for trouble."

"Oh," said Snow, less confused now. She thought that what Draco was saying could be awful prejudice…or it could be the truth. Though, if what he was saying was true, and she was a talented witch, why hadn't she done any magic before?

"Enough about Hogwarts, tell us about yourself," said Blaise, flashing a grin in Snow's direction.

"Well…" said Snow, looking thoughtful for a moment. "There's not much to say, really. I've got a rather dull life. Well, I had anyway, until…" her voice trailed off and she gulped, thinking about the events that had landed her in this house.

"There must be something worth telling," Draco said hastily, trying to cover up his uncomfortable state at Snow's reaction with a Malfoy-like drawl.

Snow brushed a curl of hair from her face and leaned more into the sofa. "I like to read," she said. "That's probably the most interesting thing about me."

"I doubt that," Blaise said, raising his eyebrows. "Where'd you used to live?"

"Arizona," replied Snow. "In America…I lived in this little town called Armadillo. The population was only about five hundred. I knew most of the people in town. And now…now I live in a house where I don't know _any_ of the people or half of the _rooms_." She didn't try to hide the discouragement in her voice.

"You'll get used to it, and you'll get to know people…at least you'll get to know Blaise and I," Draco shrugged, trying to sound indifferent to her apparent emotions.

"You might get to know Lucius better too, whether you like it or not," added Blaise.

There was a pause. Then Snow said, softly, almost embarrassed, "Do you guys ever have nightmares?" Then she added, quickly, "Sorry, that was a stupid question. I don't know you two well enough for an answer to that. I should probably go to bed."

She made a move to get up, but before she could walk past Blaise, he grabbed her arm gently and she stopped walking. "No, it's alright," said Draco with a small shrug, though Snow couldn't see the gesture. In truth, neither he nor his friend wanted Snow to leave.

She sat back down next to Blaise on the couch. Snow decided to ask another question to cover her embarrassment from the last one. "Draco, your father said that I protected myself until he came and rescued me from the fire. Do you have any idea how I did that?"

"When witches and wizards have extreme emotions or they're in danger, their magic kicks in to protect them," Draco explained. "Your body warded off the fire until father could save you."

"Oh," said Snow, and she lapsed into silence. She felt tears pricking at her eyes. "Well, I think I'm going to bed now. Goodnight." Without another word, and with uncomfortable knots forming in her stomach, she went back to bed to try and get some better sleep.

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